"We're saved, Captain," he shouted through the storm. "The Lycoming is only thirty miles away and is heading straight for us. She will reach us in less than two hours."
Anxiously the three watchers peered into the dark. Aloft swung their lights. In a dish-pan on the deck a flare was burning. From time to time Hawley fed oil-soaked pieces of wood to the flames. The rain had ceased to fall. The wind still blew fitfully, but with lessened violence. The night was as dark as a tunnel. Up and down, up and down, the oyster-boat now rose and fell on the great swells of the Atlantic. At last Alec was within sight of the ocean. But it was little he saw of it or cared to see of it.
What he was watching for was a light. Minute after minute the silent watchers strained their eyes into the darkness. Time passed. A half hour went by. An hour elapsed. Then far off in the dark something glowed faintly. Minute by minute the light grew brighter. It came closer.
Alec darted into the cabin. He flashed the Lycoming's call and got an answer. "We can see the lights of a big steamer," he signalled. "Can you see us yet? We are burning a flare on deck and our lights are burning aloft."
"We see you plainly. Will reach you in a few minutes."
Alec shut off his power. "Come on deck," he said to Elsa.
She followed him up the companionway. Alec tore off his coat and wrapped it around her. Then he took her hand and led her forward.
"Look," he said. "You may never see another sight like this."
"I never want to," said Elsa.
"That is the Lycoming," said Alec. "Didn't I tell you that Roy was a prince? We shall owe our lives to him. He's a wonderful wireless man."